


Are You Home?

by sansalannistark



Series: For the North [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Jaime is a douche, Pissed-Off Sansa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2019-01-20 08:40:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12429084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sansalannistark/pseuds/sansalannistark
Summary: Sansa wakes from her fever and finds she's missing something, something she soon sets out to find.





	Are You Home?

**Author's Note:**

> A little pointless oneshot with a bit of fluff. I honestly don't know how long this series is gonna go on for but I have some ideas of stuff: a wedding chapter, some smut with that... anyway, I'll see. For now, enjoy :-)

_She’s running. She doesn’t know how she got here, but she’s running and all she knows is that is she stops she’ll likely die. The howling reminds her of the snow flurries clawing at what little skin she has left bare under the furs and the prickling on her neck intensifies as the cold seeps through. They’re getting closer and the only comfort she finds is the pounding of her blood and the thudding of her feet against the snow. She’s close, so close to the outcrop ahead but her breaths are shorter and her frantic pants colour the shadowy sky in puffs of white smoke._

_She doesn’t even notice her limbs have caved until she crashes to the ground, the deep drifts swallowing her up like some immense ocean. The panting grows and there’s a weight on her neck and she can’t breathe. When the shadows fall on her, when the shards of their blue eyes come to rest on her pale form, it’s already too late. Sansa’s last breath leaves her on an exhale._

_“Jaime.”_

Sansa joltsawake, her body archingalmost instantaneously with the pain. A gentle hand rests on her armand she sinks into the table, recovering the breaths she’s lost dreaming. When she opens her eyes, blue eyes meet hers but it’s no white walker. Brienne leans over Sansa worriedly. 

“My lady, calm down. It’s alright, you’re safe here.” Sansa recalls her dream, the horror induced by her fever. She hardly remembers much from before that, except the knife plunging into her stomach and collapsing to Jaime’s cry of horror.  _Jaime._ He isn’t here.. 

It all comes flooding back then and Sansa sits up, ignoring the pain and Brienne’s protests. He hand at the wound, Sansa blinks, once, twice. Jaime. He was here earlier, she is certain, for she remembers hearing his voice and feeling his head on her chest. Somehow she must have woken briefly because she has some memory of stroking his hair as she slept across her but then the dream came on and...

Jaime is gone. Sansa’s head snaps sharply at Brienne.

“Where’s Jaime?” 

It comes out more accusingly than she intended, but Brienne does not take offence. On the contrary, her face falls, unable as the woman is to hide her emotions. Sansa latches on, noting her protector’s misery and resignation. 

“Brienne, where is Jaime?” She hates to hear the cracking in her own voice but she’s worried. After her dream, well, of course she is. _Dreams mean something._ She can almost picture her younger brother’s voice. ,.

“My lady... I... Ser Jaime was here with you after your... after the assassin came. He stayed with you but he said he couldn’t face seeing you when you woke and he made to leave. I cornered him in the courtyard and I told him that by leaving he was breaking his vow but he said he already had and that it was all his fault. He said he had to leave because he couldn’t forgive himself if you died on his watch.” 

“He’s gone?” she stammers, fingers habitually clenching and unclenching against the wooden table, as they always do when she’s having a panic attack. Brienne knows and she reaches forward and draws her lady into a somewhat shy embrace and Sansa lets herself fall into it, allows herself to take this moment of weakness. There is a moment when she’s just Sansa and not the Lady of Winterfell. A moment where she’s lost Jaime, not her Lord Commander.

Brienne rubs Sansa’s back soothingly as her breathing evens out. Sansa hadn’t even got around to telling her friend that about she and Jaime, so she can’t imagine that thoughts that flitter round Brienne’s head. “I love him,” she whispers in a voice worryingly smaller than herself. Brienne draws back, takes in Sansa’s sorrow and shoots her a sympathetic face.

“I know. He cared about you too, my lady. I think he would have taken on Daenerys and all her dragons himself if it made you happy.”

“Why did he leave, Brienne?” she half sobs.

“Because he believes he broke his vow to protect you.”

“No. He didn’t. And I am not going to let him wallow in blame any longer.” Sansa jumps to her feet, ignoring the slight stab of pain as she does so. “I am going after him.”

She makes as if to leave but Brienne lurches towards Sansa anxiously. “My lady! You’ve suffered a serious injury, surely...”

“I am going and that is final.” She sees Brienne’s lips twitch. “No, Brienne, I do not need an escort. It will be a short journey, unless of course,” Sansa pauses, “you refuse to tell me where he has gone.

She watches the older woman hesitate, until she clearly thinks better of it. “He mentioned heading for White Harbour, my lady,” Brienne says.

“Thank you, Brienne.” Sansa is almost out the door when she hears the woman’s reply.

“My lady... Sansa... be careful. You’ve survived one assassin, but there are many dangers on the road.”

“Then I shall be sure to find my knight, Brienne. I shall try and return by nightfall. If you please, inform my brother if she should ask of my whereabouts.”

Brienne nods and Sansa disappears.

\-------

She’s only been on the road for a few hours when she sees Jaime’s horse. The black stallion is wandering at the side of the road, loosely tied to a tree with string. His master is nowhere to be seen, but the plumes of smoke that drift from the trees gives Sansa some sort of inkling to Jaime’s whereabouts.

Carefully, she dismounts, giving an offhanded pat to Glory’s muzzle. The horse wickers and brushes against Sansa’s own mount. She follows the line of trees, pushing the branches out the way as she wanders into the clearing. Jaime is sitting by the fire, roasting some small rabbit over the flames. Dark circles hang from his eyes and his bright green eyes, the ones that Sansa loves, are faded and distant. He’s so absorbed staring at the shifting flames that he doesn’t even hear her approach, doesn’t notice her presence until she places a hand on his arm and he snaps to attention.

It takes him a moment to focus then his eyes widen and he stares at her in dumbfounded shock. “Sansa... what the...”

Sansa slaps him. She isn’t sure where she gets the strength or what possesses her but suddenly the sight of this man, the man she loves and who left her invokes her anger and she can’t help but slap the pain she feels, the weight of it, onto his face.

Jaime recoils and Sansa stands over him, blazing, as a tear leaks down her face.

“Sansa...”

“Don’t. I can’t listen to you, Jaime. Whatever dim-witted excuse you have to offer up, I don’t want to hear it. You had no place leaving me. No place.”

“Don’t you think I know that!” he fires back, suddenly raging. “Do you think I wanted to leave you? It broke my heart, but if it keeps you safe then I’ll do it.”

She knows all of this Brienne explained everything to her, about the assassin and how he came for Jaime and stabbed her instead. How Jaime never left her side, how he threatened to kill Daenerys if she ever unintentionally hurt Sansa again. Jaime would do anything for her, but all she wants is for him to stay by her side, and that’s the one thing he couldn’t.

“What, Jaime? You don’t think enough people have left me? Did you think your leaving me was supposed to  _save_ me!” 

He cannot stop himself from wincing at her accusation. She is right, he knows. He is a coward and he knew when he rode out of that castle how much it would hurt her but perhaps he had convinced himself it was the right thing to do. Even if he ripped them both apart in the process.  _As long as Sansa is alive._ It seems pathetic, what he has done, when he hears it from her lips. 

Sansa is crying openly now and there is undeniable hurt in her voice. “We belong together, Jaime. I need you by my side. It is not just about survival. I  _have_ survived. I survived Joffrey, I survived Ramsey... but you. Your job is not just to keep me from death. You have to help me live, Jaime. I need you. So you can’t leave."

“I’m so sorry.” 

“I know. I know you are,” she whispers. Jaime throws himself at her, burying his face in her russet hair and letting her cloak soak his tears. 

“How can you forgive me?”

“It’s too hard to make everything about forgiving and redemption. I just can’t be without you anymore. So don’t leave.”

“I’ll never leave you again. I swear it. Whatever you ask of me.”

“Good. You wouldn’t disobey your Queen’s command now would you?” she jests tearfully. 

“And be executed for treason?”

Sansa laughs, her head tipped back in a broad smile even if the tears are still drying on her cheeks. He cannot take his eyes off her, _his beautiful girl,_ and wonders whatever possessed him to leave her. How could he ever leave her now?

“Come home with me, Jaime,” she murmurs, leaning against him. Taking it as allowance, he sides his hands – the good and the metal – round her waist and she presses her head against his chest. Jaime brushes his lips over her forehead, basking in the feel of their skin touching and he lets himself linger for a while. They haven’t been alone in... _ever,_ he thinks _. You’ve never truly been alone with her._ Sansa’s fingers drift over his until they twine and she examines the coupling of hands with interest and pulls him up.

“Come home,” she repeats imploringly, though they both know he’s been won over. Jaime smiles at her as she pulls him closer to their horses. “Come home.”


End file.
